Outside Looking In
by kahlysta
Summary: Liz and Erin deal with loving wwf superstars
1. And So It Begins....

Title: Outside Looking In  
Author: Liz  
Disclaimer: I don't own these people, and if you really think this happened would you please share your drugs with me so I can know such a wonderful place in my brain.  
Pairing: Liz/Sean Erin/Mark  
Notes: This was written purely for the entertainment of Erin (PC) and I.  
  
2001:  
  
Liz POV:  
  
I don't know why I'm nervous; it's not like I haven't done this a hundred times before since I've been with the WWF. But for some reason going out there always makes me feel like I'm about to run a marathon . I look to my left and see my best friend Erin, my partner in crime since we were both working in an indie fed out of my hometown of Louisville, Kentucky.  
  
I look to my right and I see Mark Calloway, best known as The Undertaker, a man who has allowed me the privilege of acting like his girlfriend onscreen for the last six months.   
Somewhere behind me, Sean Waltman, better known as X-Pac, is milling around like there is nothing special happening tonight- like this isn't the last night that a group of people known as The New Outsiders, were going to exist. Like I wasn't going to betray both The Undertaker and Alana when I ran off with X-Pac.  
  
Ah, life in the WWF is always fun to say the least. For instance, in reality, while I think Mark Calloway is extremely sexy, I personally wouldn't want him as a boyfriend. He's too well, tall. I'm only 5'4" and I'd really like a boyfriend that I don't have to use stilts to kiss.  
  
No, I have my sights set much higher. I've had a crush on Sean since he was known as the 123 Kid back when I was 12 or so. But I also know that out of all the WWF Superstars I could have set my heart on, he's one of the most unattainable. And I of all people should know this.  
  
Before I was a WWF Superstar, I used to be on the grounds crew for Freedom Hall, the arena where most WWF events are held in Louisville- my job was to clean up before and after the show. I would usually be there from early in the morning before the event, until the arena closed at 3 a.m. after the show It was a plum job because it meant I got to watch the events up close and personal, and on several occasions I had actually been able to have conversations with some of the wrestlers- although by the time the night was over I were usually so sick of the smell of Nacho Cheese and vomit mixed with coke that I never wanted to see the walls of Freedom Hall again. But the night of No Way Out, I lied to WWF security and told them they had set up the their dressing rooms in front of a closet I needed to get a few things out of. I figured the security guys would call the manager and I'd be busted, but to my surprise they just let me walk right on in.  
  
What I saw back there would have shocked the most seasoned sailor, it was a veritable orgy. Matt and Lita were back there almost fucking over the top a flight case, and Jeff had his tongue down some ring rat's throat. The Rock had Chris Jericho pinned down to a bench and was giving him what looked to be the best blow job Jericho had ever experianced. And to my horror, Stone Cold Steve Austin was showing JR new and inventive uses for his barbecue sauce .  
  
But for the some reason I didn't turn around and run for my life; I just kept walking until I was at the end of the curtained- off area. I remember being a little disappointed because I didn't get to see Sean.  
  
It was at that moment that I heard something coming from a closet that was hidden behind one of the blue curtains. I pulled the piece of cloth aside, and dug around in my pants pockets for the little mini-flashlight I kept in them for times when I had to go to the darker parts of the arena. I was just reaching for the door knob when I heard a low moan -which sounded a lot like a wild animal - coming through the thick oak door. This was then followed by a, "Please Shawn, fuck me harder!" in that raspy Minnesota accent.  
  
I quickly stuffed the pen light back in my pocket and made my way back into the front of the arena. To this day I don't remember how I got out front, or when the tears started burning their way down my cheeks.  
  
A strong arm wrapping around my waist brings me back to the present. "You okay, Liz?" Mark asks in his unmistakable Texas drawl as we watch Kurt Angle cut a promo for the next night's Smackdown! taping.  
  
"I'm fine, it's just hard to see this angle end after all of this time," I lie, wiping the tears off of my face and thanking god for the invention of "waterproof" mascara.  
  
"Yeah, I was enjoying it," Erin sighs. But the excitement in her deep blue eyes belies her words. I know she's been looking forward to this new angle since it first came out in production meetings because she finally gets what she wants more than anything: The Undertaker.  
  
Sean bounces over from where he was talking with Paul and Stephanie. I can see the pre-show excitement flaring up in his eyes as he runs a brush quickly through his long, serpentine black curls. "Hey, why so glum?"   
'Because what I really wanna do is throw you down on the ground and fuck the life out of you' is what I think while Erin assures him that I'm just sad about the New Outsiders ending.  
  
Sean engulfs me in a huge hug, and for a moment I feel as if nothing in the world can touch me. I am warm and loved by the man I've had a crush on since I was ten. I love the way sweat and Irish Spring soap mix to make a scent that is uniquely Sean. He pushes me away to look into my eyes and says, " Well at least we'll still be together you bitter jealous demon from hell you!"  
  
I giggle and reluctantly pull away. I can't help but run my fingers through my hair as I scold, "I'll be fine. at least I'm not a bitter, jealous little prick who wants to take away everything his best friend holds dear!"  
  
By the time our music, Metallica's "Sad But True", hits the arena , the four of us are in full character. Erin Anderson plays Alana, the rather ditzy girlfriend of X-Pac, who in real life is a tough, take-no-shit-off-anyone chick who is a little shy and has a huge crush on Mark Calloway.  
  
I play Fury, the slightly bitchy on-again, off-again girlfriend of The Undertaker. In real life I'd like to think I'm not quite the jealous schizo this chick is; hell, they've broken her and Taker up so many times there's a pool going around to see how long this reconciliation was going to last.  
  
Al Snow's gonna be so glad to know he won.  
  
Sean, or X-Pac as he's best-known as, is not the bitter, jealous little thing he portrays on TV- quite the opposite really. Sean is the happiest person in our little bunch, which really isn't saying much since the rest of us are miserable right now.  
  
And finally there's Mark, The Undertaker, the Phenom, The American Badass. He, of all of us, is most like the character he portrays on TV. He's very blunt, but he's also the most respected man in the WWF. He listens to you when you're talking to him, and he knows how to put together a match that will make the least-experienced wrestler look good.  
  
"Hey, do you all wanna get together after this is over and have a few drinks or something?" I ask quickly as we walk up to the ring.  
  
A chorus of confused "sure"s ring out as I climb through the ropes Sean and Mark are so politely holding for us.  
  
When the crowd dies down a bit, Mark picks up the mic that just happens to be laying in the ring.  
  
"Last week, someone thought it would be a good idea to mess with Fury over there." He growls pointing to where I'm standing. I think people are gonna realize something's wrong when they see me standing off by myself, or at least that's what I would think if I were watching at home.  
  
The Titan Tron shows clips from last weeks Smackdown!, where a "masked" X-Pac and Triple H are forcing me into a black limo and driving away with me while my loving boyfriend looks on in horror from the middle of the ring where he is fighting Kane.  
  
"Now, I don't know who it was. But as Austin and DDP learned last year, you mess with what's mine, and there's going to be hell to pay! And tonight someone is going to start paying, in blood!"  
  
Sean steps up and grabs the mic. "Well it seems to me, that if you could take care of what's yours 'Taker, then you wouldn't be in this position, now would you?" "What did you say, boy?" Mark replies.  
Sean walks over and puts his arm around me, drawing me close to him, making it look as if he's trying to shield me before he replies, "I said, that if you could take care of what's yours, you would have known where your girlfriend was those 24 hours she was missing."  
  
Erin looks over at us as if we're crazy. She's not supposed to know what the hell is going on. As far as Alana is concerned, X-Pac still thinks the sun and moon sets on her.  
  
"I take care of what's mine, and if you want to keep that arm attached to your body you might wanna remove it from Fury." Mark starts to stalk towards Sean when I put myself in between them and shake my head; I don't want X-Pac to be hurt.  
  
"Fury, what's going on? Why are you protectin' that little bastard?" he asks, confused.  
  
"Yeah, Fury! What in the hell do you think you're doing? That's my boyfriend!" Erin screams, finally getting into the situation.  
  
"Well Alana, I've got some bad bad news for you!" I taunt, advancing on my friend.She does a good job of acting scared; if I didn't know any better I would think there was fear in her eyes "He doesn't love you, he loves me!"  
  
The Titan Tron once again shows the video of me being shoved into the car, but where before it cut off right then, now it shows me sitting in the car smiling as Sean and Paul pull off their masks and Sean pulls me in for a deep kiss.  
  
"Monday night they're not gonna know what hit 'em" Sean laughs as he pulls away. Then the video cuts out.  
  
Microphone silence reigns as Sean and I quietly stand there and talk smugly...about how William Regal looks like a bulldog. I can tell when the shock has finally sunk in when the crowd stands up and starts chanting, "Slut, Slut, Slut, Slut."   
Sean scowls for a moment, then points for me to say something into the microphone... " 'Taker, as you saw from that video, we're over. For good this time. I've found someone who wants me for who I am, FURY!" Sean and I then dash out of the ring and run up the ramp hand-in-hand as if we're afraid that someone is going to follow us.  
  
And with those words my heel turn, which was one of the most shocking in Federation history, was complete.  
  
We barely make it behind the curtain before we break out laughing over the conversation we had in the ring.... "What's so funny?" Shane asks. I can tell he's confused; it's written all over his face. "It's not like you two didn't just break up one of the most popular stables ever or anything."  
  
"It's not that, Shane, it's just...when we were supposed to be...talking amongst ourselves about fooling the world... well.." I gasp for breath and try to finish my broken explanation. "Sean and I were really talking about how Regal looks..looks... like a bulldog!"  
  
Shane just shakes his head, looks at us like we're stupid, the walks away looking for his wife Marissa and his sister Stephanie to run through some last-minute script changes for tomorrow's Smackdown!.  
  
"He just doesn't understand our unique sense of humour," Sean giggles, pushing a hand through his already damp hair.  
  
"Sean, other then Liz over there, I don't think there's anyone who understands your sense of humour." Hunter says slapping Sean upside the head playfully.  
  
"For your information, I have several people at home who actually laugh at my sense of humour," I grumble good-naturedly. It took me a while to get used to this kind of joking, and now I actually try to come back sometimes like when I say, "Besides, at least we have a sense of humour, unlike some people we know."  
  
"Hey, I have a sense of humour.Is it my fault that people don't understand the subtle nuances of my sarcasm?" Hunter throws back at me before walking off to record a promo with Kurt Angle and Booker T.  
  
By that time Erin and Mark have made it backstage and we all hang around waiting for them to air the segment we taped earlier, demanding a match from Co-Owner Ric Flair. When we see the show go to commercial, the guys run to change into their ring gear. It doesn't matter that we don't have to be back out in the ring for another half an hour to forty five minutes. Sean and Mark both agree that you feel more in character when you have on whatever you're planning to wrestle in.  
  
Since in reality the match is only Undertaker and X-Pac, Erin and I both decide to go down in the outfits we were wearing earlier that night into the ring. I have on a pair of specialty black leather jeans that fit over my knee brace and a black tank top with "Fury" written on it. Alana had on a pair of black leather pants, but changes out of her normal green tank top into black halter top.  
  
We both stood in front of the mirror for a moment and a brush through our hair. I tuck a lock of my brunette, almost black hair behind my ear, before running a brush through the rest of the thick mass. I can't help but give myself a little once-over. I can't help but be proud of what I see. A toned body, breasts that are just the right size for my figure, and a butt that has some shape to it but isn't overly huge either.  
  
And my personal favorite part of my body, my oddly-shaped green eyes. I know I don't have the prettiest of faces; my lips are too large and my cheekbones are too high. But my eyes seem to make me look at least a little normal.  
  
I finish admiring myself in the mirror, and have a little laugh over my own vanity before I turn and look at Erin. Of the two of us, she was the one I thought would make it in this business. She has more natural ability in her little finger than I have in my entire body. She also has that natural athleticism that's going to make her more famous then I ever thought about being. Yet she fits in more with the wrestling bimbo thing as far as looks go, her blond hair is just a little longer than my own waist length, and her blue eyes can con even the toughest guy into doing whatever she wants them too.  
  
All in all, Erin is every schoolboy's wet dream, and every man's cheerleader fantasy.  
  
I know my time here is limited. I already have the knees of a fifty year-old woman thanks to being overweight for most of my adolescence. But Erin has a chance in this business, and I'm behind her one hundred percent.  
  
You see, we met when we were both struggling wrestlers down in Ohio Valley Wrestling, OVW, hoping for a WWF contract of any sort. We quickly found we had more in common than wrestling. We were both extremely young, eighteen, and we were both huge fans of the band Metallica.  
  
Imagine our surprise when we found out we were both part of the same online slash group, tallific.  
  
From that day on we were inseparable. It was the running joke down in OVW that where one was, the other wasn't far behind. But we worked our asses off, and here we are today, at nineteen, the youngest women to ever hold contracts within the WWF.  
  
I'm brought out of my memories, when X-Pac runs into me in a rush to get some last(-) minute stretching done in the hallway before we have to go out. I decide that I might as well stretch too(,) since my knee[']s are going to be taking quite a bit of strain tonight when I do the Hell's Fury, which results in Mark losing the match.  
  
"Hey Kid, what are you doing?" Sean asks, looking at me like I'm crazy when I sit beside him and start going through my warm-up routine. "It's not like you're wrestling tonight."   
"No, I might not be wrestling, but I am doing the Hell's Fury tonight. And if I don't stretch out, my knees are gonna bitch at me for days," I explain, reaching for my toes, which are covered with my favorite pair of black suede ankle boots.  
  
"Are you sure your knee's going to be up for that tonight?" Sean asks, the concern written all over his face. For a moment I imagine it's the concern of a man for the woman he likes, rather then that of a man for a girl he works with. "I know the last time you did the Fury, you walked off stage like a ninety year-old woman."  
  
"I'll be cool, I just gotta take it easy when I go to plant Mark into the ring with my knees," I inform him, pointing to my left knee, which is slightly larger then the right. "Besides, insurance finally sprung for a new brace after last time, so I should be fine."  
  
"I just worry about you, that's all," he replies, feeling around my knee to make sure the brace is on tight.  
I just barely control the urge to sigh before he takes his hand away, jumps to his feet, and holds out the other hand in an offer to help me up.  
  
"Thanks," I grunt "You ready to go out there and kick ass tonight?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm ready. It feels like I've been ready for this my whole life." Sean sighs slightly. We're in Minneapolis tonight, which is his hometown, and I know he feels just a little tingle knowing he finally gets to beat the Undertaker in front of his friends.  
  
You know, in all the months I've known Sean and traveled with him, he's never mentioned his family. Oh sure, he mention's the Kliq, which according to him is closer to family, and he mention's about how Jesse and Billy are like older brothers to him, and Chyna's like a older sister. But I never hear him mention any blood relatives.  
  
Of course, I never hear him mention Shawn Micheals either, and I know what's going on in THAT relationship.  
  
As we walk down the ramp, I can't help but feel tonight was a job well-done when all of a sudden I'm getting chants of "SLUT SLUT SLUT," from the crowd. It's harder to get them saying anything about you when you're a heel, and damn, I really must have done a number on them with as much heat as I'm getting.  
  
Fifteen minutes, and a Hell's Fury later, the only thing I see is darkness engulfing me as I lay in the ring looking up at the lights....  
  
TBC.... 


	2. Listening In

Part 2: I don't understand why the hell they keep playing my new entrance music. Don't they realize that I have a head ache? All of the sudden I remember what happened; I had just gone for the Hell's Fury when something went wrong, and I landed on the mat head first. Well, that would explain the throbbing in my head that makes Devil's Dance sound like a nursery rhyme.  
  
I take a moment to wiggle my fingers and toes- yep still in working order- before trying to open my eyes. I don't have the energy to bite back the groan when I see not only the federation doctor, but half of the roster standing around me.  
  
Adam "Edge" Copeland and Jason "Christian" Reso are standing at the foot of the bed, and right beside them are the Hardys, who have somehow managed to find themselves wrapped around one another. Note to self: must include them in little revealing Truth or Dare game planned for later on this week. Mark, Sean, and Erin are all standing by my right side holding various parts of my hand/wrist. Kurt Angle, Paul, Stephanie McMahon, Shane McMahon, and a few faces I don't recognize are all standing around me like I'm dying or something.  
  
That sure as hell isn't a sensation I want to repeat any time soon.  
  
"Liz, Liz can you hear me?" Dr. Brown asks, shining a light right into my eyes.  
  
"Yes, Doc. I can hear you. I'm just a little woozy not deaf," I growl, sitting up only to have the world start spinning around on me again.  
  
"You might wanna lay back down," Erin tells me, then points out the obvious, "you're as white as a sheet."   
I fight the urge to look at her and tell her,"No shit, Sherlock," and just groan and close my eyes.   
  
"You've sustained a minor concussion," Dr. Brown explains before adding the inevitable, "I want to take you to the hospital for observation."   
  
"Dr. Brown, I'm not at the hospital, I'm backstage in the Minneapolis arena," I tell him. "Which means I couldn't have been out more than what five, ten minutes at the most, because more than that and I would be waking up in a hospital instead of an infirmary backstage at RAW."  
"That's true, but..."  
  
"Well then, I'm rooming with Erin. She can wake me up every four hours to make sure I'm okay. I'll make sure I don't go in the ring tomorrow and aggravate the condition, and I'll take the next three days off from house shows as well." I tell the doctor, concussions are a part of the business that can't be avoided. Hell, they practically teach a class in wrestling school called Concussion Care 101.  
  
"Well Liz, I'm glad to know my input was valued in this decision. After all(,) it's only MY life being interrupted here," Erin sarcastically remarks, brushing a lock of my hair out of my eyes. I can tell she's teasing, and I really don't have the energy to get her back, so I just lay there and let her dote on me for a moment.  
  
------  
  
"SEAN WALTMAN! Put me DOWN!" I yell, ignoring the fact that I've always wanted to be carried in his arms. "It's not like I can't walk!"  
  
"Right, Liz. I believe you are the same person who couldn't make the fifteen feet from the arena to our car," Sean scolds, ignoring my pleas. I look at Erin and Mark, who just nod in agreement with him, then as a last resort start punching the hell out of his shoulder.  
  
"Put...Me...Down...you...idiot."   
  
"No," is his simple response.  
I finally realize I'm going to get nowhere, and just hang on for the ride.   
  
"Erin, door,"he orders when we finally stop in front of our room.  
  
"Yes, Sean Sir! Master Sir!" Erin barks out, with a smart little solute, then steps up to open the door with her copy of the key.  
  
"You know Sean, you could have let me carry her, and saved your neck a lot of strain," Mark points out, holding the door open.  
"I've got her," is all Sean says in response. I guess he doesn't wanna ruin his tough-guy image and admit he's weaker than someone.   
  
Erin rushes ahead of him and pulls back the covers on my bed. I try to explain I'm not tired as Sean sits me down, but the look in those brown eyes shuts me up quickly and I find that I'm drifting off to sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.  
  
It's funny, I'm dreaming almost as soon as my eyes close, because just before I slip into a deep sleep I feel Sean pressing one of those light, airy kisses to my lips.   
  
All in all, that night was the most restful nights I'd had in weeks...even if Erin was waking me up every four hours asking stupid things like my age, my birthdate, and who the president was. One time she even asked me who Sean Waltman was to me, and I think I said something stupid like, "the one man I'll always want, but never be able to have."  
  
The next few days seem to drag past. I can't wrestle, can't write because I don't have my computer with me, and I can't work out because they're afraid I'm going to drop something on my head. But those days also give me time to plot.   
  
Erin has this wacky idea that Sean is in love with me, and since I've never told her the story from 2000 there's no way I can tell her differently. And I know that Mark is in love with her, it's in his eyes.  
  
You see, most of the time Mark's eyes are green with just a hint of blue and a hint of brown, but when he sees Erin, his whole body softens- including his eyes, which turn baby blue- and he looks at her like she's the most precious thing on earth. Personally, I don't see how she misses it.  
  
So we hatched a plot. First we enlisted the aid of a good friend of both Mark and Sean, Glenn "Kane" Jacobs, and then we made sure that he would have the guys off by themselves at the perfect time.... we're going hunting for information, and we don't care how we find it.  
  
And then after we get the information, we're going to invite them, along with Matt and Jeff Hardy(,) back to our hotel room for a drink and a late-night card game.  
  
What we don't tell them is that we're also planning on playing a game of high-stakes Truth or Dare, and to me the happiness of my best friend is on the line.  
  
When it's time for me to go and play spy, I quietly duck into Paul's flight case and thank god that Triple H's dressing room is right next to the Undertaker's. For some reason, the theme to Mission Impossible kept running through my mind, which was just what I didn't need.  
  
"Hey, Mark!" Glenn calls out. I almost gag at how fake he sounds, but keep that to myself. I really don't wanna get caught.  
  
"Hey Glenn, what are you up to?" Mark asks. I can see the silhouette of him taping up his wrists through a crack in the case I'm using for oxygen.  
  
"Nothing much, just getting ready for tonight's show. I thought I'd come by and check up on you," Glen hedges. "You know see how you're doing since the big break-up."  
  
"What? The break up of The New Outsiders?" Mark asks.   
  
I guess Glenn nods, because I can't see up that high and he's not talking.  
  
"I knew it was coming months before it happened."  
  
"What about the break up with Liz?" Glenn asks, all mock sincerity.  
  
"What about it, yet another thing I knew was coming. They thought Fury would be better as a heel with X-Pac and I agree," Mark tells him.  
  
"Oh so you, like working with Erin?" Glen prods. I have to bite back the laughter in my voice at all of the emphasis Glenn is putting on the word "like."  
  
"Like working with her? I love working with her. She's smart, she's athletic, and she has the character for a long term face team, which is what they are trying to bill us as," Mark explains. "And while I loved working with Liz, I know that knee of hers isn't going to last too much longer, and while X-Pac can get away with a manager who's not active in his matches, The Undertaker can't."   
I have to count to ten to keep the hurt from welling up inside of me; sometimes when you listen in on people's conversations you get to hear the unpleasant stuff too. The truth hurts, and while Mark's a tell-it-like-it-is guy, he's never been quite this blunt about my knee before.  
  
"So you think Erin's good for your career, and not your life? I mean I guess considering what you're going through with Sara right now, you wouldn't want to get right back into a relationship," Glenn goads. He's trying his best to get Mark to talk on a personal level. I sigh for a moment.  
  
"Maybe I should have sent Stephanie in there, she'd just talk it right out of him," I whisper to myself. "Never send a man to do a woman's job."  
  
"See, that's the thing. I'm starting to see this kid on more then a professional level, and that's poison for her. She doesn't need to hook up with a broken down old man like me... not that she'd want to anyway," Mark finally spills.   
  
I silently let out the mental breath I've been holding since I wedged myself into this damn case. So he thought she wouldn't want a broken down old man like him...hmm... we'll just have to let him know otherwise.  
  
I hang around in the case for what seems like forever, waiting for Mark and Glen to walk away. They talk a little more about work and about the storylines for the next few shows, then exit the dressing area together. As I am tumbling out of the case, I all of a sudden find myself nose to boot with..  
  
"Would you mind telling me what you're doing in my flight case?" Triple H asks, barely able to keep the laughter out of his voice.  
  
TBC.... 


End file.
